


The Wait

by aluinihi



Series: RoyEd Week 2018 [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ishval Civil War, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, kinda angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-02 14:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aluinihi/pseuds/aluinihi
Summary: It was a matter of fact but hidden anyway under layers and layers of faked indifference. If you weren’t someone with the disposition to look between the lines, to actually read his behaviors, you would never have guessed. If asked, he would deny it with a simple shrug and a judgmental smirk.But it was a fact: Roy Mustang was a hopeless romantic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language! Please, warn me of mistakes...
> 
> I'm thinking about adding another chapter to this, showing Roy and Ed's distant future, but I'm not sure yet.
> 
>  
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://aluinihi.tumblr.com/)

It was a matter of fact but hidden anyway under layers and layers of faked indifference. If you weren’t someone with the disposition to look between the lines, to actually read his behaviors, you would never have guessed. If asked, he would deny it with a simple shrug and a judgmental smirk.

But it was a fact: Roy Mustang was a hopeless romantic.

The prospect of meeting his soulmate used to make every awakening feel like something important. He had to live through his day to meet the one, so he would charge through it as headstrong as a bull.

He wrote on his arm every day, even if he never got an answer. He knew, on the depths of his heart, that his soul had been split in two and his other half was alive and wandering around the world. That feeling alone was enough to fill him with joy, and when he was younger his aunt explained that he should believe it, both in his soulmate and in the happiness that came with having one. No one would blame him for wanting an answer, though.

Maes had already met his soulmate. Roy had asked him about it, how it felt and how were the first moments around your half. You surely couldn’t _just jump_ to domestic bliss, right? No, no, no, Roy, you dummy. It clicks. You look at each other and you just click. You work together, like a premeditated good team and no, of course, it’s nothing like the “don’t even need to talk to understand each other” bullshit. But there’s an abundance of a sentiment that you can see in your mate’s eyes and feel in your own heart: understanding. You don’t immediately know them, but it’s like the universe gave you the ability to understand them when they give you their reasons. And sometimes when they give you nothing too.

So Roy hoped. And used to write in his arm, every night before bed. “Used to”. A funny expression meaning “does not any more”.

The war made him question if he really should have a soulmate. He had beaten and scarred people and people had beaten and scarred him. He had burnt eyes that stared at him filled with silent begs for mercy and torched the ones that looked defiant. He had killed. Indiscriminately, irregularly and blindly. Roy Mustang was a walking machine gun, ready to snap and execute dozens of human beings. So, no, he would never question the existence of his soulmate, but, yes, he began falling asleep without touching a pen the whole day. What had his soulmate done that could possibly give him the emotional and psychological strength to deal with him? Or better yet, was Roy some kind of punishment to be imposed? A sentence just waiting to be given? Who could, after all, understand his reasons?

What even were his reasons?

He twirled the pen in his fingers. It had been four days since he last wrote something. Would he be bothering his soulmate if he did? What if they had better things to do? What if they didn’t want a soulmate at all? What if they were already in a relationship, loathing the idea of being stuck with a soldier? He scratched his head and his features contorted in a grimace. Oh god, he was so tired.

_i want to give up_ , he wrote and regretted almost instantly.

He threw his arm over his eyes, feeling the tears welling up on the edges of his eyelids. Roy couldn’t cry, not when there were a bunch of filled bunk beds around him. He should be sleeping. Shit, he must be sleeping, he is just so _exhausted_ that even the idea of waking up in the morning makes him tired. Maybe he really should go to sleep now, yes, yes–

_don’t_

He stared at his arm. Dumbstruck, disbelieving, filled with a warmth he didn’t know he lacked. The handwriting was a bit crooked, childish even, and Roy frowned. How big of an age gap could they have? Had Roy all these years been daydreaming with a child? His stomach dropped.

_you can’t give up_

_not yet_

_i know how it feels but you_

_must keep going_

Roy read the words over and over and over. He didn’t know what bothered him more: the fact that his soulmate was disturbingly younger than him or the pain behind these words. A kid, for god’s sake, what could have possibly have hurt a kid so much to make them want to give up?

_i won’t_

_i’ll wait for you_

He shoved the pen under his pillow and promised himself to only write after 10 years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, warn me of mistakes, please!

_We just click,_ said Winry, _When I talk with Paninya it’s almost like we’ve been best friends for ages._

Edward had only ever written to his soulmate once. He knew they were older and that was it. Everyone in Resembool found it weird that one of the Elric kids had words appearing on him ever since he was a small kid. Ed grew up used to it, to that clean handwriting staining his skin at random moments. He never answered, his mother asked him not to and he never complained. Ed had never been keen on receiving orders, especially from supposedly metaphysical authorities. _Who the fuck_ the universe thought it was to tell Edward who he should end up with?

He was ten when he wrote on his arm for the first and last time. He didn’t know what had been going on with his soulmate, _why_ would they think of giving up and _what_ exactly they wanted to give up. They had written sad things before, but Ed never really cared, dismissing it as a drama that had nothing to do with him – he had better things to do after all. However, that small sentence brought such intense pain to his heart that the boy almost forgot how breathing worked. He remembers clutching his arm against his chest, feeling the _ba-bump ba-bum ba-bump_ of his increasing heart rate on his palm. He remembers reaching for a pen and scribbling an answer for someone much older than him, who apparently still needed his support.

_i’ll wait for you_

Was it a threat or a reassurance? Ed didn’t really know. It still filled him with hope and longing for the future. Someone existed _just for him_ out there, and that someone would wait. Until he was older, or better yet until they could stand side by side and see each other as equals.

But when Edward finally met his soulmate, it wasn’t like a click. It was a ravishing, intense and widely destructive tidal wave. Walls of fire surrounded him, the acrid smell of burning flesh invading his lungs and a hot wind slapping against his features as the immortal legion was torched down with a simple snap of fingers. As he stared at the man standing behind him the only thing he could think of was that Winry was a _liar._

It wasn’t a click. It was a _blow to the fucking guts_.

And he saw it. In the nanosecond their eyes crossed, Ed saw it. The acknowledgment, hitting them both like a punch that would have probably have hurt less if it had happened somewhere – some _when_ – else. Ed saw it, the instant understanding, and it hurt in a way that he wasn’t expecting: _not now_.

From then on things happened too fast. Envy, the Gate, Father. Mustang was blind, the five sacrifices, Van Hoheheim. Ed had an arm, Alphonse had a body, Ed had no alchemy.  
It was the day that felt like a decade. So when it ended, it felt stupid to just waltz into the colonel’s hospital room and _so we’re dating now?_ and Ed was left to brood.

Shit, they couldn’t have this, could they? Even if they wanted – Ed was sure that Mustang didn’t and he wasn’t exactly capable of understanding what exactly he wanted – it would be a whole lot of complications. The man wanted to be Furher and having someone like Ed around would certainly lower his chances. Same gender soulmates weren’t uncommon, most people were very accepting, but the age gap… If they had worked all these years under different conditions, Ed being another’s subordinate perhaps and not being indicated for the State program by _him_ specifically… Fuck, everyone had heard the _rumors_ , but until then they had been groundless. Now, there was nothing that could stop people from thinking that Roy had—

_Gross. He’s not like that. But people love stupid gossip and they’ll paint him like it._

Ed decided that the best way to deal with Mustang was to not deal with him at all. Instead, he dedicated himself to Alphonse and his recovery, taking him back to Resembool to restart his life as a proper flesh-and-bone human. Al wanted to go to Xing after his body got back its strength and Ed was thinking about heading West. It was so much easier to dream about a future next to his brother and to get scolded by Winry when he scratched his automail leg. Almost as if they had never left their small countryside town to wander around getting themselves in danger.

Three months after the promised day, words appeared on his left arm.

_it’s you right?_

It was late night. Edward was the only one awake in the house and he was getting ready to sleep, the sounds of Alphonse soft snore a soothing background noise. He had been calm, but then his heart started beating like crazy and his mind kept chanting _royroyroyroy_ and when the fuck did he began thinking of Mustang as _Roy_?

 _you don’t need to answer_  
_if you don’t want to_

Shit, shit, shit. Ed wanted to answer. He wanted so badly. The spot where the letters appeared was tingling, and the blond felt a sudden urge to press his fingers against them. Maybe it would stop this—feeling, whatever it was. Before he could cover the words – maybe they would _disappear_ ¬– Roy’s smooth cursive formed more:

 _i meant it 8 years ago_  
_i’ll wait for you_

Ed shoved his arm under the pillow and forced himself into the sweet, needed sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://aluinihi.tumblr.com/)


End file.
